A Cinderella Story
by themem0ry
Summary: Lily and James unknowing meet at the Hogwarts Masquerade Yule Ball. In the aftermath, one of them is desperately trying to find out who their dance partner with the gorgeous eyes was, while the other is determined to keep their identity a secret. Will either of them succeed, and if so, will it be happily ever after in this Cinderella story?
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my new story! If you're readers of Three Months of Living Hell, my oneshots or completely new to my work, I hope you enjoy. This story will take place using both Lily and James' points of view, more likely Lily's because she's a girl and I'm a girl and...yeah... it's easier for me to write as a girl. **

**It's a slow beginning but I can promise, if you hold on I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. It's the end of June, to give you a brief timeframe, and they're on their way back home from Hogwarts. I didn't want to put too much detail in on just the setting as I feel it takes away some of the magic of the actual story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except any OC's which I may include in this story.**

**Without further adooo:**

* * *

**Lily POV**

I've always been invisible. In nursery, I was the kid who would rather play by herself in the sandpit. In primary school, I was the girl who would sit in the corner and read a book.

Apart from the times when I wasn't.

Like the times in nursery when I would be pushed out of the sandpit by the boy who decided there wasn't enough room for two. Or in primary school, where the 'cool clique' thought it would be fun to smash my glasses and rip up my books.

No one ever knew about that, of course. Why should I make a big deal out of it? I was nine and somewhat of a nerd. I was asking for it.

I'd like to be able to say that when I hit my teens I grew out of it. Like in those films, where the girl suddenly becomes gorgeous and dateable after being, well, _not_. But life isn't a film, and it doesn't work like that. I mean, sure, I lost my puppy weight and grew boobs and an arse, but they're nothing to stare at. Guys don't want to date me and girls don't want to be me. And I know that. I've accepted that. At least I thought I had.

That doesn't matter right now though. All of that is things I can't change, and I'm not going to stuff my bra just to get a guy to give me a second glance.

My name is Lily Evans, I'm currently in my fifth year (well, to be more precise, I'm on the train home returning from my fifth year) at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, I'm a witch. No, I don't have green skin and warts all over my body. I am magic though. That's the strangest thing of all really, seeing as I come from a normal family (known as 'muggles' in the wizarding world) with no magical blood for generations as far as I know. I'll let you imagine my surprise when two people showed up uninvited to my house on the 17th of July when I was eleven and told me that I was a witch. Let me give you an idea of what my parents thought: they nearly called the asylum.

To find that new piece of information out was both a gift and a curse. Suddenly there was a reason to explain why I could jump off a swing seven feet up in the air and still land on my feet, or why my hair grow back so fast when my mum gave me that Merlin-awful bowl cut when I was 5 and had gum caught in my hair.

The negatives? I lost my best friend, my sister Petunia. She didn't agree with my, shall we say, _situation_, and was jealous beyond belief. At first I didn't think it was jealousy, but then when I found a letter addressed to the Headmaster of the school, I realised. Of course, I wasn't the only one who found that letter, as my then-other-best-friend Severus Snape was with me, so the blame can't _totally_ be blamed on me (at least, that's what I tell myself). I say he was my then-best friend, because, as so often happens in friendships, he found better people to hang around. Better by his standards, anyway, which is awful because those people he now hangs around with? They're Death Eaters, the most feared wizards in our world, supposedly led by someone who we only know as Voldemort.

We're not completely sure as to whether this Voldemort guy really exists, as the Daily Prophet is extremely restricted on what they're allowed to publish, and we're underage so the school doesn't want to get into too much extreme detail, but one thing is for sure: Whether they have a leader or not, they're scary as anything. Deaths are reported daily. Sometimes halfbloods, occasionally purebloods and 'bloodtraitors,' but most of the time it's either a muggle-born witch or wizard, like me, or just plain, straight, defenceless muggles.

When I read about those reports, or when I hear about the deaths of these mostly-innocent people, only one thought consumes my brain. _It could have been me._

Even though I _thought _that stuff, nothing would have prepared me for the time when I found out it actually was. When I got off the train that afternoon, I was expecting for my parents to be waiting for me, as they always have when I returned. We even discussed it a couple of days ago, when they said that they would wait outside of the station for me. They were nowhere to be seen.

That's okay, maybe they're caught in traffic, was my first thought. So I waited for a little longer. But as it became clear that they weren't coming, I headed back. We only lived a short couple of bus rides away anyway. It was no big deal.

As I was walking up my road, I could see our car still parked in the driveway. Maybe they really did completely forget about me then.

I didn't bother knocking on the door; if they really had forgotten, they I wanted to give them a surprise. I just used the key which I always had with me (yes, even when at Hogwarts and thousands of miles away from here) and walked in.

I was in for one hell of a surprise.

It was wrecked. I'm not even joking, tables were overturned, photo frames pulled off the wall and smashed. The sofa's even had stuffing hanging out of them! I was scared shitless, to say the least. Then I heard a yell from upstairs.

'Who is it?!' It was a woman's voice, and I recognised it as my sister Tuney. I had already figured out that someone must have broken in, so I quickly yelled back that it was me to reassure her. She came down the stairs, tentatively, as though she was afraid someone was after her. 'You!' she screamed, 'it's you! How dare you have the nerve to come back here? It's your fault they're gone because of your stupid freak world and you actually come back?! Well I have news for you Lily Evans. Get the hell out of my house!'

I was shocked. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, so I told her so.

'Your people,' she said, spitting out the word, 'broke into the house last night and murdered my parents! They tried to kill me too, freak! You planned it, didn't you? You never liked me. You probably wanted them to get to me first, but told them to take out whoever got in their way. That's exactly the kind of thing you would do!'

Our parents were dead? Our parents were dead? Our parents were dead? No, she must be wrong. There was no reason for the Death Eaters to come over here. I had done nothing to wrong them. Or maybe I had. I was muggle-born, my parents and sister were muggles. To them , that was reason enough.

'Tuney, listen to me, I didn't kill them! I didn't even know! You can't seriously think I would do something like that do you? The people who did that were evil wizards, Tuney! I'm not one of them! I'm a good witch, a good person!'

With a cold look, she looked me in the eye and said, 'Is there such a thing as a good witch?' without waiting for my response, she carried on, 'I didn't think so. They left the house to me, since I'm eighteen and you're still in school. I want whatever things you happen to find in this house of yours out by sundown tomorrow, including yourself. Never speak to me again.' And with that, she turned and went back upstairs, leaving me alone with a trunk full of spellbooks, witches robes, and a numb heart.

* * *

**James POV**

If you ask my parents, they'll probably tell you that I am the most troublesome thing to ever have existed (or maybe second most troublesome. Sirius' levels exceed even mine!). Then they'll follow on to say I have a good head on my shoulders and am capable of making good decisions by myself. And then, my mother will excuse herself so she can owl me to make sure I'm changing my underwear daily and keeping up with my classwork.

I'll admit it! I'm babied a little bit. But in all fairness, that's probably down to my parents having me later in life. I don't _like _being constantly watched over, being owled once a day, sometimes even twice, and most of the time the words all being the same.

_Hi Jamsie,_

_Just wanted to check on you. Are you okay? Eating well? Showering every day? Don't get in too much trouble now!_

_Love and kisses,_

_Mum and Dad xxxxx_

See?! They're not even letters! Notes, is what they are.

Still, it's nice to know they care enough to owl me regularly. And I have to say, it really does reassure you when your dad is an Auror and away on mission trips often. But there's a limit, you know?! I'm 16 now. I think I know what I'm doing.

Still, despite all of their worrying and fussing, I'm pretty damn excited to see them again. I've not seen them since the Christmas Holidays, and now it's the end of June. I can't wait to be able to hug my mother again and hear them scold me for the mischief I got up to with my best friends, Sirius, Remus and Peter.

I love those guys. They're my brothers, not by blood, but we're still closer than I've ever known any blood brothers to be. We hardly ever argue, and when we do we've usually sorted it out within twenty four hours or so. What can I say, we don't hold grudges.

So far, we've roomed together in Hogwarts for five years, going into a sixth in September. So far, so good, in pretty much every aspect of my life. I can only hope it stays that way.

* * *

**So there you are. I hope you enjoyed it, don't forget to leave a review/pm me telling me if you love it, hate it, or think I should give up writing altogether. Thanks! X**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, thanks to my reviewers, favouriters, and followers of this story. Really! And to anyone who has fav'ed/followed me. Thank you!**

**This one is kind of a filler chapter, but I'll hopefully have another one up at the end of the day. For the record, most of my chapters will be about this length because it's easy for me to bang it out and upload faster. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

* * *

**Lily**

It's safe to assume I left quite promptly after that. I know that she's my sister, but when someone tells you they want you out of the house, you have to respect that, right?

So that's how I found myself on the swing at ten o'clock at night, with no food all day (except for the breakfast consisting of a pancake and one pumpkin pasty on the train), no shelter, and a full bladder. The bladder problem wasn't too bad, seeing as there was a public toilet on the park premises, but I got the impression that it has been a long, _long _time since anyone visited it with a Flash spray and scrubbing brush. Still, the feeling of needing to pee left me with two options: the disgusting public toilet, or the equally horrifying bushes. At least no one could see me in a toilet stall. I hope.

I did my business then decided I was going to attempt sleep. With nowhere to go, the best I could do was the bench on the other side of the park. I know what you're thinking. I'm a witch, why didn't I just magic myself up a bed and make it so no one could see me? The answer to that is I'm only 16, and I have to be at least 17 to perform magic outside of school without getting my wand snapped. It's Wizarding Law and apparently has been for centuries. There are other reasons to this of course, such as the chances of being seen by a muggle, but the main one is that I'm underage.

I lay down on that bench and fell into a restless sleep.

_'Not Harry! Please!'_

_'Stand aside, girl'_

_'James! James help! He wants Harry. _HELP_.'_

I woke up with a jolt. So many questions were running full speed through my mind. Who was Harry? Who was James? There was also a flash of green light; what was _that_? Who were Harry and James?! In Hogwarts, I knew no Harry's and one James. James the Quidditch Captain, member of the Marauders (a group of four who find pleasure in playing pranks on us unsuspecting students), and Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor, next to his best friend Sirius Black. I suppose their other guy, Remus Lupin, was also rather fetching but in a swottier, nerdier way. Potter and Black were through and through _badass. _There's another member of the group but I can't remember his name. Paul? Phil? Peter? _Peter, _that was it. Peter Pettigrew. Neither charming nor swotty in the slightest, slightly (okay, pretty) overweight, and, you guessed it, single.

I'm getting sidetracked. What the hell would Potter be doing in my dream? We've never spoken, in fact, I'm not even sure if he's aware of my existence. I'm not one of the girls who fawns over him, and I'm never the butt of his jokes, which makes me only too pleased to become even more invisible.

That dream, it must have just been from exhaustion then. Yes, that's what it was.

I looked at the clocktower in the centre of the park. Apparently it was 5:50am, so I may as well just get up. The dog walkers will be around soon, and I don't want to risk anyone seeing me. If they did, and by some miracle recognised me from some point in my life, I wouldn't know what to say. I'm not exactly the social type. In actual fact, I would probably suffer through a couple of words, find an excuse to leave, then have a panic attack. I told you I'm not good with people.

I'd not really had a chance to think since Petunia kicked me out. I wasn't exceptionally close to my parents, as they didn't agree with my theory of books making better friends than people. Let's just say, we never really clicked. So while I mourned their loss, it was also (and don't judge me on this) a slight blessing. I no longer had to put up with their constant horrible words when I was home for the holidays, wouldn't be forced into attending dinners with their co-workers when it was fairly obvious I was uncomfortable. I was free.

That makes me sound like the worst person on earth, I'll admit it. But when you have put up with everything I have, the bullying at school followed by it continuing at home by your own parents, it messes you up too. I cried for them, because they still raised me, fed me, clothed me; they just didn't do an exceptional job of it, and I'm not sure if they realised it.

After my little sob-fest, I looked through my bag to see if there was any spare change rolling around. There was only 50p, muggle money, but that would do for the local paper. If I looked through there I could find out if there was any cheap accommodation or jobs going.

First, I would have to go into a shop.

Shops to someone who suffers from anxiety is their worst nightmare. That feeling when you're not quite sure on what to do when they're sorting out your change. Or when you can't get your item into the bag and feel as though the entire shop is judging you. Not even knowing how to ask for the gum on the shelf behind the till, so opening and closing your mouth whilst pointing, praying they get the message.

Welcome to my life.

_How hard can it be? You go into the shop, find the paper you want, pay for it, get out. You don't even have to wait for any change today. You can do it, Lils._ I kept on repeating those few sentences to myself over and over and over again. Surprisingly, I managed to make it out without making a complete idiot of myself, and even managed to thank the cashier. Now for the easier part: finding a room or job. This part proved to be just as hard.

In the end, I cried. I cried and cried and cried. For my parents, who were brutally murdered by the Death Eaters. By my sister, who hated me because she thought I played a part in it. For myself, for being so Merlin-damned pathetic I couldn't even go into a shop let alone attend an interview for any jobs I might just happen to stumble upon. I was doomed.

If I could manage to get to Diagon Alley, I might be able to see if there was something going in the Wizarding Highstreet. It was worth a try, after all, I have nothing else to lose. _How the hell am I meant to get there? _I thought. _Oh! The Knight Bus! _I had only even ridden on the bus once before, when Dumbledore and McGonagall came and told me I was a witch, and decided to take me to get my supplies themselves. Needless to say, I got quite a discount just for being in their presence whilst shopping. I tried to remember how Dumbledore summoned the bus last time, and after thinking for what felt like hours, it suddenly came back.

I stuck my wand arm out and –

Nothing. I was about to settle back onto the grass and cry some more when- wait! I could hear something. With a bang, it had appeared, and a man who looked to be in his thirties popped out.

'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Thomas Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening.'

Even though I knew it was coming, I was still amazed to see this huge purple bus in front of me. The way it just appeared, it was just, well, _magical. _

'Lily Evans, sir,' I said, holding out my hand. Thomas looked at me, either confused as to why I called him sir, or why I had extended my hand for him to shake. Slowly, he took it, shook it quickly, and dropped it like hot coal.

'Please,' he said, 'Call me Tommy. None of this 'ere formality! Now, where you off to Miss Evans?'

'Lily. And Diagon Alley, please. I need a job.'

'Well yer in fer a bitta luck, Lily. We're off to Diagon Alley next to drop off Mr Crouch over there. A job you say? Be sure to give the Leaky Cauldron a check, heard they was hiring not long ago. If I be remembering correct, the job gave ya four galleons per shift and gave ya room an board too, if ya need it. Otherwise ol' Tom pays ya an extra galleon for not wanting the room,' this was news to me, but it was useful. I looked outside and we were on the familiar street, near the entrance to Diagon Alley.

'Oh thank you Tommy! Thanks very much, for everything!' I shook his hand once again, jumped off the bus and let my feet lead me over to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

**Let me know what you think in the reviews, and I'll see you all later! X**


	3. Chapter 3

**As promised, a new chapter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, other than the OC's I make up.**

* * *

The best part about being in one of the oldest pureblood wizarding families is the houses. We have four houses (more like mansions to be honest), one in France, one in Italy, one in America and one here in England. This house is so big I could have an entire floor to myself if I wanted to.

Money. The money is also a major up-factor in being born into the Potter family. At least five generations of Potters wouldn't even have to work and they'd be able to afford all four houses with house elves and still have money left over to spend, that's how well-off we were.

The worst thing is probably how I'm only known for my name. I'm not given free samples of food, or Quidditch tickets, or broomsticks, or robes because I'm James. I'm given them because I'm Potter. Not only that, but I'm the only Potter capable of carrying on the name. I can pretty much get anything I want just for being my parents' child, and while that's a good 'get-out-of-Azkaban-free' card to play, it also sucks sometimes when all I want to do is hang out with Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail but some old tosser comes running up at me and begins talking to me, leaving me to pretend I'm interested in a conversation I've heard thousands of times before.

'Are you the Potter boy?'

'Yes.'

'Oh hello, son! I'm' this is usually the name of some top Ministry worker 'I'm a good friend of your father's, he may have mentioned me? I thought so. How is old Charlus anyway? Haven't heard from the man in what feels like decades! Must be busy with the Auror offices, no? With all those Death Eaters and You-Know-Who causing trouble everywhere, I don't blame him. Anyway, best be off now. Give my wishes to your dear parents! Good bye, lad!'

Cue end of conversation with random stranger.

Don't get me wrong, most of the time they're nice enough people, but what sixteen year old wants to spend his holidays discussing their parents' past? They've already lived their teenage years; let me enjoy mine, please!

As much as these conversations annoy me, I don't mind hearing how much like my father I am. Apparently he used to be quite the lady's man back in the day, and somehow my mother, with her crazy long, reportedly beautiful red hair changed him for the better. Ha. Better. Sure.

I'm proud to be like my dad. He's always been my hero, from the time I was little. He's always been on the good side of the fight, no matter what fight it is, whether we're talking family feuds or the more serious War that's going on now. No matter the subject of which there is an argument, you can guarantee Charlus Potter will be there making sure everything turns out okay in the end.

* * *

'Hello? Excuse me, Tom?' I had to practically yell to get the old man to realise I was attempting conversation with him.

'Eh?'

'Hi, my name is Lily Evans, I'd like to know if you're still hiring? Please.' Wow, well done Lils, you made it through an entire sentence without forgetting how to breathe.

'Eh?' He said again. Then he realised what I had said. 'Oh! The job, yes. Yes I am still looking for someone, but it's a tough job, lass. I'm not sure whether your pretty little face is suited to it, Cinnamon.'

'It's Lily. And that's okay, I'm a fast learner, it can't be that hard. All it is is serving drinks and cleaning glasses, right?'

'Oh I never said it was the job that was tough, Cinnamon. The customers though, they're what I'm talking about. Half of 'em are stuck up Ministry workers and the other half of them are drunk.'

Inwardly, I winced. Beggars can't be choosers, I decided. 'I really need this job though Tom, and I would be thankful if you gave it to me. At least give me a trial run? If I'm no good, fine, fair enough, you can kick me out onto the streets. Just let me try. Please.'

Tom looked at me as though he was examining me. 'You can have a week. If my customers are happy and my regulars carry on coming back, you can stay. If not, you're outta here like Merlin being chased by a dragon. Staff quarters are up the stairs to the very top and to the left. You're working nights, so make sure you get all your stuff done throughout the day and that you're able to deal with late nights. If we have slow business, as is often the case on a Thursday night, you can do your work or whatever behind the counter. Just don't let it disrupt your workfront. Deal?' and with that, I took his extended hand and we shook. 'Welcome to the team, Cinnamon.'

* * *

The next five weeks passed extremely fast. Tom had decided I wasn't awful for business and kept me on, I made 'friends' with the regulars and had many pleasant conversations with them. Of course, it was a pub, so you don't get the most cooperative drunks. I've probably kicked at least seven witches and wizards out for drawing wands on each other and honestly, I'm surprised I made it out alive.

When my letter for my sixth year of Hogwarts arrived, I opened it down in the bar whilst talking to Tom, who I had come to think of as a grandfather figure. It was him who had noticed me crying behind the bar one night when a lady who looked the spit of my Nana Evans, who was the only member of my family who I ever felt really loved me, came in. It was him who explained to me why the NEWTS were fixed. And it was him who noticed a gold badge that dropped out of the envelope when I was preoccupied with my supplies list.

'Ey Cinnamon, you ever wanted to be a Prefect?' Well, I had thought about it. Not excessively, but enough to decide that I wouldn't mind if I was made one or not. I told him so. 'Yeah well you made it. Congratulations, Cinnamon.'

I couldn't believe it at first. Me, a prefect? Why? I wasn't made one last year, so why in Merlin's beard would I have got one this year? It was an honour, of course, but it was a confusing one. I wasn't going to question it though. It would look good on any future job applications.

I think I was surpised at my reaction more than anyone. I'd replayed the scene in my head over and over before it had even actually happened, and I had always been shocked and screaming with happiness. My parents would have been clapping, proud, at last, to have me as a daughter. And once again, Tuney would think of me as more than just a freak.

But none of that would happen, ever. Not now, not in fifty years' time, not on my wedding day, not on my graduation. Maybe that was why I wasn't as thrilled. I was so sure that my family would be there to celebrate with me that when they weren't, it didn't seem as big a deal. It's kind of like when you used to go to the dentist as a kid and all your family would praise you for going even though you were terrified, but as you got older, they just didn't care as much.

I didn't want to dwell on the subject because I could feel the tears pricking behind my eyelids, so I made myself work, even though I wasn't technically on shift yet. It was just then that a rowdy group of boys came in. This wasn't an unusual site, as we were one of the best Wizarding pubs around, but it was odd that I recognised them. It was the Marauders.

'Oi, we'll have four firewhiskey's, if you don't mind,' said the one I knew to be Sirius, adding an extremely over the top wink which would probably have made me swoon if I was a) an ordinary girl and b) an airhead.

'Erm, Pads?' Pettigrew squeaked.

'Oh yeah, right. Sorry about that Peter,' he said to him. Then to me, he said, 'Can we make that three Firewhiskey's and a Butterbeer. Ta.'

'Yeah sure,' I replied as I gave them their order. 'that's two galleons. Anything else?'

'Yes, actually. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' Black said with, again, an over exaggerated wink, as he handed me the money.

'Quite a bit now you mention it. Think it fucked up my elbow a little,' I quipped back. I could tell they weren't expecting that response by the way Black's cheeks slightly coloured and Lupin tried even harder to pull his friends away.

'Thanks for the drinks,' Lupin said as he yanked Black by the collar and grabbed a drink, motioning for Potter to get the rest. Pettigrew, I noted, was empty handed. Just as well, I thought. He's shaking so much he'd probably drop them as soon as he picked one up.

I began to sing one of my favourite songs from a Disney movie I grew up loving. Cinderella was always my dream princess, and the song A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes always calmed me down. I used to sing or hum it to myself so often that no I just don't even realise I'm doing it.

'Ahem,' someone, erm, ahem'd behind me.

'Oh! Oh. You again. What now?' I wasn't intentionally being rude. I was surprised, and when I'm surprised I tend to say the first thing that comes into my head.

'Good service,' Potter said coldy. 'I came over to ask if my friends and I could have some chips to go with our drinks, but if you're too busy singing to yourself I can come back later.'

I blushed a probably very unattractive shade of orange. I didn't let it get to me though, as I'd pretty much heard the words before. The only difference was that he was asking for chips while insulting me. 'Sorry. Habit, you know. How many portions, and what size?'

'Two large.'

'Okay, that's twelve sickles please. I'll bring them and your change over in five.' I said as he handed me a Galleon.

'Don't be too long, waitress.'

Again, I coloured. It wasn't the words he spoke, but the way he said them. It made me feel about a foot tall. I understand that I annoyed him a little but really? Did he need to be so rude? How girls were attracted to him I had no idea. Maybe they really are as stupid as I always thought.

As promised, I took the chips over to his table (along with his change) and did my job, all without looking him in the eye. I caught Lupin's eye and he gave me what seemed to be a sympathetic smile, but I don't know why. Was it because I'm a waitress or because he saw what happened with Potter? I returned it with a quick smile and walked away.

That was my first ever encounter with James Potter. After that, I knew one thing for sure: I won't be too upset if there is never a second.

* * *

**There!**

**I have a question for you: Would you rather I updated shorter chapters like this of about 2,000 words, or updated less frequently longer chapters?**

**I know James comes off as a bit rude in this but trust me, I know what I'm doing! This story is pretty AU compared to JKR's version, but this is fanfiction people, it's allowed;) All of Lily's feelings when it comes to social situations are based on my own, in case you're wondering.**

**Have a nice night, and I'm tired as hell so if there's any mistakes, go easy on me, I've been at school then work all day! X**


End file.
